Alex Neel drove her slick silver hybrid slowly between
lines of protesters as Xander sat in the passenger seat. The protesters carried
poster board signs, chanted…forming an unintelligible cacophony. They closed in
on either side of the car, and Alex sighed. One sign read "Honk for Willow" in
bright green marker.

Alex honked.

A cheer went up, and the crowd parted slightly. Alex
turned the car onto a drive and slowed to a stop at a high metal gate. A line of
guards stood in her way, glowering. Alex pressed a button, and the window slid
down. She held out an ID to one of the guards.

"I'm the lawyer. This is Rosenberg's best friend," she
said as she motioned to Xander. "I called ahead."

The guard examined the ID briefly then nodded. The
line of guards parted; then the gate opened with a mechanical whirr.

Alex drove up the road, and the guards closed ranks
behind her. The shouts of the protesters faded into the distance. As the gate
clanged shut, the sign hung on it rattled briefly. It read "Hazelton Federal
Detention Center for Special Offenders."

Cut To:
Int.
Federal Detention Center for Special Offenders – Series of Shots

– Alex and Xander put their arms out so that a female
guard could run a wand metal detector over every inch of them. It whined at
Alex's wrist. She sighed and pulled off her Rolex, dropping it in a cup.

– Alex's eyes rolled as she bent over so a different
female guard could frisk her.

– Her briefcase hit a metal table with a bang. Hands
in white plastic gloves snapped it open.

– Another guard, this one an African-American man,
carefully read a sheaf of papers that he held in his hands.

Alex's hands were on her hips. "It's not subversive
material; it's an official legal brief."

"Policy, ma'am."

– White plastic gloves screwed apart a fat black pen
with gold trim, separating it into two halves. Each piece was carefully placed
down on a metal table.

– A young man with purple streaks in his hair and far
too much eye makeup shook a wood and feather talisman in front of Alex, making
shapes in the air.

"Would it be rude of me to ask what they're paying
you?" Alex asked. She got no response.

– The same young witch sprinkled some kind of dust
over Alex's belongings as they spread over a table, the pen now in four parts.
Nothing especially spectacular happened.

– The African-American man handed Alex her briefcase
back. Her clothes were rumpled, and dust fell from her case.

"You're clean, folks. Thanks for your patience."

Alex gave him a jaded look. "You're welcome," she
replied. As they walked away through a metal revolving door, she mumbled, "Like
I'd be dumb enough to try and sneak anything spelled in here anyway…"

"Now, now," Xander said just as low. "They're doing
their job of keeping the world safe from Willow – you know, the woman who helped
save the world, like Faith."

Alex and Xander sat on one side of the glass divider
while Willow sat on the other. All three were holding phones to their ears.

"So, how's it feel to be Nelson Mandela?" Xander
asked.

"Surprisingly enough, it kinda sucks." Willow, clad
neck to ankle in a bright orange prison jumpsuit, flashed a smile from her seat.
The holding area was pretty small, and they sat alone in the room except for a
lone guard on each side.

"So…uh…what's your cell like?" Xander asked.

"Oh it's lovely – more roomy than the other cells I'm
told. I wouldn't know because I'm in solitary. Just me, a sink, and a toilet.
But on the upside the beautiful glowing green anti-magic bars keep me up most of
the night with the light they give off so…you know…added bonus for not being
rested."

Alex sat in a chair next to Xander, wanly returning
her smile as she shuffled through the papers in a leather binder.

"Anyway," Willow continued, "I've got a ways to go
before I give Mandela a run for his money. I haven't been here that long. And
people liked him."

"People like you," Alex objected. Willow raised an
eyebrow. Alex pressed on. "I'm serious. You should have seen the protesters we
passed on the way in here."

Willow sighed and leaned back on her hands. "Were most
of them women, by any chance? Possibly holding hands with each other?"

Alex looked down at the contents of her folder. "Some
of them looked like men…but…yeah, mostly women."

"I'm sure everyone in Washington is rushing to help
the lesbian," Willow sighed.

"Well, one woman is," Xander told her. "Rowena took
Andy, Grace, and the kids and went to Capitol Hill to try to make some headway."

"Any luck?" she asked.

"Not as of yet," Alex replied. "But she just got
there, so let's give it some time."

"I've been waiting for three months now – I haven't
even had a trial yet. How much more time do I have to give?" she said,
frustrated. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I know all you guys are trying.
I do. It's just…" She let the sentence hang unfinished. "So, what'd ya bring
me?" Willow asked brightly, trying to change her mood. "Is it a cake with a bomb
baked into it, like on Duck Tales? That'd be helpful. Plus, hey, cake."

"Papers to sign." Alex pulled a particular sheaf from
her stack and held them up to the glass for her to see.

"Papers with a bomb baked into them?" Willow asked
hopefully.

"You realize they're listening to us, right?" Alex
asked with a vague air of impatience.

"Oh, well, what are they going to do? Put me in jail
without a trial? Oh, wait a minute. That's what they're doing now." She quickly
read over the top page Alex held there. "Request for Expedited Hearing?" she
read. "Didn't I already sign one of these?"

"Three, actually," Alex sighed. "The process isn't
moving nearly as fast as I would like."

"How about what I would like?" Willow replied.
She got to her feet. "It's been three months and no hearing. Nothing! I have
babies. Little baby children who will probably forget me if they haven't
already. Not to mention a wife and a life and a job that can mean life and death
for people. And instead of being there, I'm stuck in solitary, wrapped in one
mother of a power dampener, and practicing doing chin-ups. Chin-ups,
Alex!" She ended her diatribe with a deep breath, taking her seat again.

"Welcome to Hazelton," Alex said darkly. "I've been
working for exceptional people and…other beings, for a while now, and I've never
seen anything like this. It's Guantanamo Bay for the magically inclined."

"So, the trial's still nowhere in sight?" Willow
asked, running a hand through her hair.

Alex nodded. "Near as I can figure, they're not sure
they have enough evidence to convict you, but thanks to the Patriot Act and
Homeland Security, they want to keep you locked up as long as possible."

Alex pointed to the floor. "You can sign the paper. We
keep trying. It's all we can do without a Presidential pardon."

Willow gestured for her to hand over the files. Alex
turned and motioned the guard over, handing him the papers.

"Actually," Alex said, "we've been discussing
alternative avenues."

"Yeah," Xander said. "Like the one Rowena's working on
now."

"And?" Willow prompted.

"And…other stuff," Xander said.

"Like?"

"They've really tied our hands here, Will," he told
her.

"Son of a…" Willow muttered as the door to her side
opened and a guard walked in handing her the papers and a pen. She signed her
name and gave the papers back, and the guard left as quickly as he came.

"Now what?" Willow asked.

"We hurry up and wait," Alex told her.

"Are the kids sitting up on their own?" Willow asked
Xander. "When I left, they were trying."

He licked his lips nervously. "Yeah," he replied.
"They're ahhh…yeah, but only if you prop them up. Otherwise they fall
over to the side like a sack of potatoes."

Xander smiled, as did Willow, but the expression
didn't last long on her face.

"Hopefully I'll know more by the time they're walking,
right?" Willow asked Alex.

"That is our goal," Alex said.

"What about Buffy?" Willow asked Xander.

"She's fine. She can sit up on her own," Xander
teased.

Willow grinned. "I meant have you asked her out yet?"
Xander anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll take that as a no," Willow
continued. "You gotta do it, Xan. I see how chummy you guys have been lately.
Well, you were…it's been a while since I've seen you guys together…Really, you
shouldn't wait."

Willow sighed. "Well, I'll take what I can get." She
then turned to Alex. "So, lady lawyer extraordinaire…how long on this
paperwork?"

"Their case is nothing more than hearsay. But getting
a trial to prove that is our biggest problem right now."

"What's the bottom line?" the witch asked.

"I won't make promises, Willow, because as I said,
this is something we've never encountered. But I'm doing all I can," Alex
replied.

Willow nodded. "I know. I know. I'm sorry if I'm
testy."

"It's understandable and justified," Alex replied. "I
am too."

The guard brought the papers back to Alex. "Time's up,
ma'am," he told her.

Xander put his hand against the glass. Willow seemed
reluctant at first, but then she did the same. "Tell Ro and the kids I love 'em,
okay? Everybody actually."

"Faith too?" Xander asked.

Willow groaned and looked away. "Just do it, all
right?" she said, turning back to him.

"You bet, Will," Xander told her. "You hang in there."

Willow just nodded and then hung up the phone, looking
doleful.

Cut To:
Ext.
Washington, DC – Establishing Shot – Day

The white dome of the US Capitol building and the
spike of the Washington Monument soared above the tree line, symbols of the old
American power. The Potomac River flowed among cherry blossoms in the
foreground.

Cut To:
Int.
Congressional Office Building – Hallway – Same Time

The thick oaken door slammed shut with a bang, leaving
Rowena and Grace standing slightly stunned in the hallway. A brass nameplate on
the door read "Rep. Joseph Ankiel."

"Well, that didn't work," Grace commented dryly.

Rowena sighed and shook her head. She took a moment to
gather herself before beginning to walk down the hall. Grace hurried to follow.

"This isn't what I expected," Rowena said as they
walked. "We've spent years building up these contacts. Robin and Jim and now
with Oversight…this isn't the first time we've pulled these strings."

"Ankiel sponsored the Slayer Emancipation Act," Grace
commented as she brushed past a scurrying intern. "The strings have decided they
don't want to be pulled this time. And Oversight has to have a couple of
stray senators in their pocket, but for whatever reason, there's not much
happening on that front."

"Which leaves us with the question of why," Rowena
continued. "It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. It's like some kind
of…"

"Well, I don't see any simple explanation for any of
this. I take it you have an alternative theory?"

"O'Mara's the rising superstar, maybe a president
someday if you believe the polls. The race is on to see who gets to be the top
flunkies. She needs to look tough on something – why not us?"

Rowena stopped in her tracks. "Speak of the devil."

Autumn O'Mara was walking quickly down the hallway in
the opposite direction, a chunky female aide in tow.

"Let's ask her." Rowena broke into a run.
"Congresswoman!" she called, and O'Mara came up short.

"Councilor Allister," she acknowledged guardedly.
Rowena and Grace stood on either side of her, effectively pinning the
Congresswoman against the wall. Seeing the worried look from her aide, O'Mara
said, "It's all right, Darlene. I'll meet you at Ways & Means."

As her aide walked away, O'Mara turned back to Rowena
and Grace. "Is there something I can help you two ladies with?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Rowena replied. "I'd like
to speak to you about my wife."

"Your wife in a marriage that is unsanctioned by the
state of Ohio," O'Mara commented. Rowena visibly stiffened, and Grace's eyes
widened. "I suppose you can't get a pardon from an overstuffed actor this
time…Miss Rosenberg's crimes are federal."

"Alleged crimes. Willow has never been convicted of
anything," Grace protested. "And yet they seem to be able to keep her locked up
until judgment day without a trial…"

"I'm sorry," O'Mara said. "But I can't help you."

"You're the Chair of the Supernatural Relations
Committee," Rowena pointed out. O'Mara turned to face her. Seeing she had her
attention, Rowena pressed on. "I know there's been a rift between your office
and the Watchers Council. I'm not sure how it happened…we bring jobs to your
district, keep it safe, we've even made a few contributions to your campaigns,
but you go on national TV and act like we're the villains here."

"I can only act according to my conscience…" the
Congresswoman answered stiffly. "…especially in light of recent events just
brought to my attention."

"Faith Lehane," Rowena began.

"Not Miss Lehane," O'Mara cut her short. "This is
something far worse, and you know what I mean."

Rowena sighed. "Look, I'm offering a clean slate here.
I think it'd be advantageous to both sides not to have the other as an enemy.
All we need is someone to get us time with the President so that we can ask him
for a pardon. Truce?"

Rowena held out her hand. Autumn O'Mara stared at it
for a long moment, her breaths surprisingly short and nervous. Grace raised an
eyebrow. Finally, O'Mara said, "I'm sorry. I have a committee to get to."

She didn't take Rowena's hand. Instead, she edged away
from the two women, making sure not to touch them as she extricated herself. She
then walked briskly away down the hall.

"What the frak is her problem?" Grace asked,
exasperated.

Rowena stared after the Congresswoman's retreating
back and finally lowered her extended hand.

"I wish I knew," she said softly.

Cut To:
Int.
Watchers Council – Conference Room – Later

Faith, Robin, Kennedy, Jason, and Lori sat at various
points of a too-large conference table. The room was a little too dark and a
little too quiet. Kennedy drummed her fingernails on the table. Lori clicked the
top of her pen repeatedly. Faith yawned.

Kennedy turned to Faith, a little too quickly, and
asked, "Are you feeling okay?" Everyone in the room turned to look.

"Sorry?" Faith asked softly.

"You've got…circles." Kennedy pointed to her own eyes.

"Five by five," Faith told her. "Just…"

"What?" Robin asked.

Faith turned and looked at him for a beat. "Achy." She
rolled her neck and grimaced.

"Maybe you're coming down with something," Kennedy
suggested.

That brought a headshake from Faith. "No. I've never
been sick since I became a slayer…ever. A little run down? Sure. Besides,
Norman's in town, and you know how he likes to run in circles. Maybe I'm just
not cut out for motherhood."

"Maybe you should –" Robin began to venture, but he
was cut off when the door banged open and Buffy strode in.

"Sorry I'm late," she announced before she'd even sat
down. "Just got off the phone with Xander in West Virginia and Ro in D.C."

"Any luck?" Lori asked, sitting forward in her seat.

Buffy just shook her head. "Willow signed some papers,
Xander said. He and Alex should be here in a few hours."

Faith slumped in her chair, the circles under her eyes
looking particularly dark.

"Ro had no luck either?" Robin asked.

Buffy again shook her head.

"They're headed back to the hotel and'll get back late
tonight, so…" She looked up to see Joan enter the room carrying a sheaf of
papers. Joan had a blue wrist brace on one arm and hand.

Joan nodded. "Getting better, I think. It's all her
fault." She jerked her good thumb towards Buffy. "This lady never learned to
type."

"I was kinda busy, saving the world and all," Buffy
said defensively, but Joan was already on her way out the door with a final
wave.

Faith yawned again, drawing glances from everyone
else.

Robin cleared his throat. "It will be nice to get a
few more friendly faces around here. I feel like we've been running with a
skeleton crew the past couple of days."

"I think the watchers' retreat is important," Lori
said. "We've just been working them so hard with…everything."

"But there's only a few more days," Kennedy asked
eagerly. "Right?"

Buffy gave her a suspicious glance before replying.
"Jim'll keep them out of trouble. He's good at…shepherding."

"And I'm sure he's keeping an extra-close eye on Dawn
and her bestest vampire friend," Faith said, an unsuccessful attempt at a wry
grin on her face. She had opened her mouth to continue when she winced and put a
hand to her forehead.

"Okay, that's it," Kennedy told her.

"What's going on?" Buffy asked.

Kennedy looked over her shoulder at Buffy. "Faith's
sick."

"She's sick?" Buffy repeated. "How can you be sick?
You're a slayer."

"I'm not sick," Faith insisted.

"Faith," Robin said firmly, "I get it, I do, but we've
all been under a lot of stress lately, especially you."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "The only time I can remember
feeling flu-y is that time when I felt guilty about…" She saw Kennedy looking at
her quizzically. "…stuff."

"I'm not feeling guilty!"

"Maybe," Robin said, "but you definitely need rest."

Faith looked around the room and suddenly had no more
energy to argue this. "Yeah, okay."

She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose with the back of
her hand. She looked startled when her hand came away smeared with blood. "What
the –"

Kennedy saw the blood on Faith's face, coming from her
nose. "Oh, jeez. Does anybody have a Kleenex?"

Lori dug in her bag and produced a small pack, sliding
it across the table. Kennedy pulled out a white tissue.

"Lean your head back," the slayer said.

"No, that's the worst thing you can do," Lori said.
"Keep her head straight."

"Still, you could have left them with us at the
Council for one night, you know."

Rowena picked up Jen just as the baby girl began
crying. "I know, I know. You're hungry," she cooed. As she patted Jen on the
back, she said, "I can't leave them. Not when they're already down one mother.
Shh, shh."

"I can't believe no one would help you," Andrew sighed
as he picked up Alex. "What'd they say?"

"The ones that would talk to us said they're still
working on relief efforts for the Southwest and don't have time for my cause célèbre," Rowena told him. "The others were less polite. O'Mara wouldn't
even shake my hand."

"That's a new kind of rude," Andrew said as he sat
down on one of the room's double beds. Jen's crying was starting to quiet down
as she began to nurse. "Who does that woman think she is?"

After a moment of relative silence, he turned to see
Rowena looking about as pensive as one can look with a baby in her arms.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Something's going on here," Rowena told him.
"Something more than a politician running off at the mouth, I mean."

Autumn O'Mara squirted an unnecessarily copious green
blob of hand sanitizer onto one palm. She leaned back in the large leather chair
behind her desk as she compulsively rubbed the goo all over both hands.

Her office was dimly lit, the curtains drawn over the
lone window. Trophies and citations cluttered the shelves. A panoramic photo of
a flooded downtown Cleveland covered one wall. "Never Forget," the caption read.
A young female aide shifted nervously on the far side of the Congresswoman's
desk.

"Where are we on the press conference?" O'Mara asked
as she continued to spread sanitizer over her hands.

"Um, Gerald prepared another draft of your statement,
based on your comments," the aide said, placing a sheaf of papers on the desk.
"He added the, uh…new information."

O'Mara glanced over the papers. "Good," she commented.
"Very good. Darlene, I want to thank you, Gerald, and the rest of my staff for
your hard work these past few months."

Darlene looked startled. "Thank you, ma'am."

"I understand it's been difficult on everyone," O'Mara
continued as she reached over for another squirt of sanitizer. "Great things
don't come easy. But we're so close now…" She looked directly into Darlene's
eyes. "After the events of the next few weeks, no one will challenge us. There
will a place for you, Darlene, a place for all of you, in the new
administration. That's the sort of job security not many can count on these
days. Are we on the same page?"

Darlene looked down at her shoes. "Yes, ma'am," she
said quietly.

O'Mara went back to rubbing her hands raw. "Good. That
will be all, Darlene."

After Darlene meekly left the office, closing the door
behind her, O'Mara reached up to the cord around her neck. She pulled out an
uneven black stone from where it had hung inside her pantsuit. She fingered it
for a moment, staring deeply into its dark interior.

Then she laughed. It was a giggle at first, growing
into a loud cackle that filled the room.

Cut To:
Int.
Faith and Robin's Apartment – Later That Day

As laughter faded to an echo some strange place in the
distance, Norman walked through Faith's apartment.

"Hey, Faith!" he called. "The door was unlocked…" He
was greeted by nothing but silence. "You said I should stop by for your famous
Cheez Whiz and ketchup sandwiches."

Still nothing. Norman kept walking until he entered
the living room and saw Faith, eyes closed, sprawled over the couch. Her head
rested on a sweatshirt that had been made into a makeshift pillow.

Norman rolled his eyes. "Boy, you slayers sure are
deep sleepers," he commented. He walked over to the couch and shouted, "Hey,
Faith!"

Faith didn't move.

"Faith, wake up!" Norman shouted, a look of concern
growing on his face. He shook her by the shoulders, but this still failed to
rouse her.